Being an orphan was something little Evan was trying to get used to. Everywhere he went, every foster home, every orphanage seemed to have something to disqualify him.

At 8, he was already street smart, living amidst the rubble and dangers of the night, surviving hunger and thirst and the thick loneliness that overwhelms these alleys.

Days come when he forgets how to be brave and he yearns for the embrace of his mother and the smile from his father. Those days when the rain drenches him and he has no dry pair of clothes left. Or days when his feet sore from walking with no shoes. Or days when the other people run away or give him a look that says “What are you?”

He tries to remember what his mom told him; to have faith and that good people exist in the world and every time, he would go out in the open with his torn clothes and dirty face and smile at strangers or try to play with the other children but they always pass by like he wasn’t there and the kids laugh and point fingers.

Those days, he puts on his brave face even though he’s breaking inside. Slowly, he’s losing his faith and throwing away his hope. There’s no one who will love him. They’ll all pass him by even if it was his cold body that lay on the floor.

Emma walked down to the vinyl store. It had become a hobby of hers. After work, she’d go home, take a shower and walked down to “Mike’s Vinyls”.

Today she wore the same clothes she did when they first met. She was dancing to a Marvin Gaye’s song when she accidently bumped into Ryan.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized with a smile taking off the headphones.
“Ah, it’s alright. What you listening to?”
She gives Ryan the headphones and he puts it on.
“Oh cool. I’m gonna let you go ’cause I’m a fan of Marvin Gaye also.”
“Really?” she asked with a wide eyed look.
“Yup” he said nodding his head.

And it took off from there.

It turned out they had so much in common. Same favourite food, same colour, even same movie franchise, Tom and Jerry but couldn’t say that last one out loud.

They went for coffee and jammed at the vinyl store after work. They were always the last to leave. So regular, that Mike would be worried if they showed up a minute late.

It went on for a month and the memories piled up and it became more than just a passion for music.

After a long day and a short time at the store, Ryan walked Emma home and they talked. Getting to Emma’s lawn, they stopped and from nowhere Ryan kissed her and then ran off like a little kid with a big smile. Emma was shocked but happy. She stood still for a moment and went in. She couldn’t fall asleep but she knew she had to.

The next morning came, and she went to work, counting the time till it was over. She rushed to the store right after work. A minute passed and he wasn’t here yet. She waited more and the moon replaced the sun and the stars were out but he didn’t show up.

She walked home with a sulky face. In bed, she tried calling him but his phone was switched off. Everyday she’d go and wait, watching everyone who passed through the door. He never came back.

Today, she wore the same clothes she did as the first and played the same song, hoping he would bump into her or recognize her. Music was the string that pulled them close but now, it was more than that.

3.
I try to ignore the scars like they weren’t there, for they are not pretty trophies of victories won or have a worthwhile tale behind their existence. But they appear, one way or the other, everyday on the calendar.

4.
I speak of them not but they resurface in daily conversations, lonely walks, wee hours in the dark and even in the bright sky with a shade over the sun like an eclipse, changing not their patterns even after the years gone by.

5.
These scars I tell you of, you can’t find them for they can’t be seen with the eyes, for those can be deceiving. They’re hidden where even I can’t find, where the light refuses to go and where the path meets a wall.

6.
I have considered painting as an option. Red ink flowing on the canvas, painting pictures that make sense only to the ones inside. But I fear I fail at that too, for my fingers tremble at picking up the brush.

7.
This brings me to the end of the road of finding what will do the job of wiping years away and making scars disappear. I have found that they are indelible no matter how hard I try, until one day when I get tired of trying and it fills me with dread; at the thought of it coming.